June 29, 2026

i’m feeling
a
type
of
way
and i don’t necessarily know
what type of way that is
but at least i know why

change
and staying the same

change is
show ending
kip starting a brand new job
[that, granted, is not in france
but still, a big change]
change is
going back to things
circus
friendships
that may have paused
while i was so damn busy
change is
fixing up the house into something i
might want to make [and perhaps film]
physical projects inside
[and make room to have it so that
kip feels at home in our home
as well/still]

and staying the same is
having a mess
as usual
and being too open for my own damn good
and not knowing how to interact in social
[and non-social] situations…
i wish there was an instruction manual for living
[but, let’s be honest, would i follow it?
or would i deem it too ‘societally normative’ and
literally and/or figuratively throw it out the window
or
or
would i want a societal manual just to decide
what is for me and what is not?
and that begs the question
even if i read
and intended
to follow, would i actually be able to
or would i still fall back into
what i know/feel best
which is how i act
and i just am who i am
and that’s all that i can be
and i needn’t be worrying myself so
about all of this?]

and the conclusion of this poem is that
change happens
and sameness happens
and there are no instructions for life because
we are all just who we are
and that is all we [probably] ever will be

and that is ok.

May 12, 2023

sitting here
thinking of neurodivergence
thinking of
anxiety and depression
thinking of
acting from such a young age
thinking of
diagnoses and non
thinking of
societal standards
thinking of
pressure and constructs
thinking of
freedom from expectations and all that

~~~

experiment
think of words not often written
ponder places and things alike
you rarely ever write about
and maybe
just maybe
your poetry can have fresh(er)
life

~~~

to write about what i’m feeling:
a little bit of pain
a lot of hunger
love for my dog and for my kip
(and begrudging love for our
hassle cat)
the cold of the ice pack
the water flowing from esophagus
to stomach
and on
the tap of my elevated leg
toe against air
to the tempo of the music
yawns
tiredness
worry about armpit stinkiness
this whisker poking out from my chin
and an extreme itchiness on my scalp, under my braid
my teeth clenched together
(relax, relax, relax)
the taste of this blueberry coffee
and a little bit more centered
than when i started this poem